Catch as Catch Can (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 1) by Malcolm Hollingdrake (any book recommendations .txt) 📗

knees rested against the edge of the table allowing him to swing gently back and forward. His hands were cuffed in front. The ceiling mounted cameras were trained directly at him and the microphones were positioned to catch every word. A large, intimidating officer stood by the door. Quasim hummed some indeterminable tune. Skeeter and Alex watched from the Control Room as if privately becoming acquainted with their subject.

‘Ready?’ Alex asked as he picked up the electronic tablet.

‘Yes, indeed I am.’

The officer moved towards Quasim and lifted him to his feet as the door opened. Alex and Skeeter sat before him and strong hands forced him to sit.

‘This is DS Warlock. You know my name and title but just in case it’s slipped your mind I’ll remind you, DCI Mason.’ He watched as the suspect stared at his colleague.

‘Warlock?’ His tone was questioning as if asking him to clarify.

‘DS Warlock. Correct.’

Quasim leaned forward. ‘I’ve seen you before. I’ve seen those fucking googly eyes but you’ve never seen me. Knew you were a copper, a fucking ugly one. You look like a fucking witch too – googly-eyed fucking witch at that.’ He grinned and started to swing again on the back two legs of his chair.

‘Please don’t swing as you might tip backwards, otherwise we’ll remove the chair and you’ll stand for this interview,’ Alex instructed emphasising the word tip as he looked at the officer by the door who remained motionless. He had witnessed this before and knew the outcome.

Quasim continued to perform the action and he grinned directly at Alex. Skeeter slid her foot beneath the table and caught the front leg of his chair before applying a little upward force, tipping him just out of balance. His cuffed hands flew as if trying to catch the edge of the table to stabilise his backward rotation. They missed and he crashed to the floor. Skeeter looked at Alex and shrugged her shoulders.

‘If the lad refuses to listen to reason.’

‘You did that you poxy fucking witch, you kicked the fucking chair.’

She stood. ‘Look at my legs. Are they long enough to go all the way under this table? I’m like you, vertically challenged.’ She emphasised every syllable.

‘Fuck right off.’ He brought both hands up in front of him and extended the middle finger of each.

Skeeter smiled. She was getting beneath his skin just as they had planned. Even in today’s sophisticated society there was still room for the good cop, bad cop routine. It was amazing how often it succeeded.

The officer lifted Quasim to his feet before moving the chair to one side. He returned to stand directly behind him.

‘Quasim,’ Alex started, bringing a frown to the lad’s face. ‘Yes, we know your name. We put the word out. Amazing what a few bob will buy in this fair city. Do you have a nickname? Let’s guess … Grumpy? You know who he is, Quasim? No? He’s one of Snow White’s boys. All we want from you is Snow White’s real name.’

Alex allowed the pause to linger as they both stared at the lad. ‘We have your DNA, lad, and we have DNA from a number of crimes and incidents. The bike attacks, the knife attacks, even a murder or two. Stays in place a long time DNA and can be found on skin, material, stone. A stone was next to where Beverley Gittings was cruelly knifed to death. Did you kill her?’

Quasim’s eyes grew wider and they watched as his head involuntarily shook. He remained silent but the defiance was beginning to slip away.

‘Evidence could point that way. Your DNA is left anywhere you’ve been so once the samples have been processed and checked against every crime in the city for the last few years, we’ll be able to charge you for more than simply falling off a moped. We’ll be able to charge you with murder. You’ll be away a long time and if you come out, we’ll be retired and a good deal of water will have flowed to the sea.’

It was Skeeter’s turn. ‘However, you’ve not heard the best. When we find the others who are responsible, we’ll let them know just how co-operative you’ve been, how quickly you squealed. We’ll even ensure you’re allowed out early to see the grass grow. You know the term grass, Quasim, and you know what happens to those who are known to grass?’

She stood and went to the door. ‘Now where did I leave my broomstick?’ Turning she winked at Alex and left.

Chapter 25

April checked the boards in the Incident Room noting those highlighted in blue. She felt an eager anticipation to discover what Michael might have left on her desk. She was not disappointed. Next to her drum sticks was a blue folder, her name neatly written in block capitals. She removed the contents.

Not much, but it’s a start! You might be familiar with some of the facts.

The discs were used as three-dimensional props on large cardboard advertising boards. These were usually placed in indoor shopping areas such as Liverpool One. Here’s an image of that one in situ. The Perspex discs were stuck with a type of glue you find attached to your credit cards when you receive them by post or the front of a magazine cover when it’s promoting something. It’s easily removed. There are a number of makes and I’ve added a list on a separate attached sheet. I believe Forensics identified a trace on a disc found on the beach.

These boards were advertising bitcoins. You might remember a while back the value of this virtual currency started to climb at a phenomenal rate making some people bitcoin millionaires overnight. Although you invested real cash, you received virtual money that was stored on your computer. You could cash this in at any time or buy more. If, however, you lost the computer, you lost your investment whatever that might have been. Initially, some people invested and within months realised they were sitting on